The Auction
by DowagerInTraining
Summary: At a private auction of the goods pertaining to the estate of Mr Henry Williams, son of the late Dr Henry Walton Jones (Indiana to his friends), Nathan Drake and Victor Sullivan make a new acquaintance, Lady Lara Croft, who is wearing a striking and eye catching piece of jewellery..
1. Chapter 1

"Feels kinda strange to be attending one of these fancy affairs with an actual invitation."

Victor tugged uncomfortably at his unaccustomed necktie, as his hair stuck to the back of his neck, a trickle of sweat leaked uncomfortably beneath his colour down his back.

Nate, however, wore his suit well. A little older, a little more filled out perhaps, but with a gloss and polish that only some years as a respectable businessman had been able to bestow. He still drew admiring looks from many of the women thronging around the event, but unlike ten years ago, he barely noticed. Contentment and relative prosperity suited him as well as a few years of not being shot at or dangled from clifftops.

"Yeah, well … just keep hoping that nobody takes too close of a look at yours."

"But you said you were…"

"Yeah, I was invited. You were … kind of an unofficial plus one."

Nate's grin was infectious. For a second, Victor couldn't decide whether he was joking or not. Once he laughed, Victor knew for sure.

"Nate! Seriously, you should know better than to mess with the stress levels of an old man like me."

"Ptff … old man. Yeah right. If you want to know what an old man in our line or work looks like, take a look at this guy…"

The portrait, one of the lots on offer at the exclusive and invitation only auction, was impressive. An oil painting, one that should have hung in an academic's office at a prestigious university. Nate reminded himself that it had done just that, for some years, at Marshall College. The subject was sedate but luxurious in colour palette, wearing a rich brown and green tweed jacket and trousers, neat polished shoes, horn rimmed glasses, his grey hair neatly barbered, a hand resting on a leather book set to one side, with a tantalizing pile of notes, covered in sigils…

"Yeah, he was something alright. How did you find out about this event anyway, Nate? I thought you were out of this game now..."

"Contacts, Sully. Contacts. There are some names that just can't be ignored."

Nate glanced at the unassuming invitation he carried, to the private auction of the personal effects of the late Mr Henry Williams, proprietor of Williams and Sons Automobile Services. Nothing to suggest he had been anything special during his lifetime. But the watermark, hologrammed logo and microchip hidden in the ticket's thick paper betrayed this first impression of banality. As did the slick suited security guards who hovered around every entrance and exit.

For anyone with an interest in archaeology, antiquities or any form of treasure, this was definitely the hottest ticket in town. Not because of Mr Henry Williams, himself, but because he had been the sole beneficiary of his father's estate. The late Doctor Henry Walton Jones of Mashall College, Conneticut. Indiana to his friends, and at twenty five years deceased still the keeper of some of the most speculated upon secrets in the field of Ancient History.

"Quite magnificent, wasn't he…"

The cool, assured, feminine voice behind them made both Victor and Nate jump. As they turned to the sound of a throaty, female giggle, it was only years of practice that prevented their jaws from dropping.

Tall, willowy, wearing an exquisitely cut white dress with killer heels, long white gloves and a white broad brimmed hat, their new companion could have stepped from the pages of any glossy magazine. She removed her sun glasses, revealing eyes that were dark and wicked; intelligence sparkled among the smokey makeup. Her sleek smile hinted at a filthy sense of humour. A few dark tendrils of curling hair deliberately escaped from beneath the brim of the hat, which alone surely cost more than Nathan Drake's honest annual income.

"Absolutely, they broke the mold with him," Victor recovered that fraction of a second faster than Nate, extending his hand smoothly. "Victor Sullivan. And this is my business associate, Nathan Drake, miss…?"

"Croft. Lady Croft." The hand that shook Victor's in return might have seemed delicate and feminine, but there were muscles of steel and unexpected callouses apparent beneath the thin gloves. "Lara."

"A pleasure to meet you Lady Croft. Lara."

Nate finally recovered his powers of speech having sternly reminded his hind brain that he was a Happily Married Man, with a wife who was blessed with both mind reading powers and the ability to break him with her little finger.

"Speaking of magnificent, that's a beautiful necklace, Lady Croft…"

Lara's hand strayed to the pendant which hung artlessly around her slender throat. Heavy, golden, the size of an old sovereign, it was intricately carved, the design resembling an old compass.

"Oh this? Something I picked up on my last trip to Peru."

"Travel a lot, do you?"

"Oh here and there … South America, the Caribbean, South East Asia… wherever business takes me."

"Business, eh? Well, perhaps our paths will cross again on a future business trip."

Her eyes lightened, sparkled with interest.

"Perhaps they will, Mr Drake. Perhaps they will, " she replacing her dark glasses. "Until then…"

Nathan and Victor couldn't quite help themselves watch her walk away through the crowd, the sway of her hips was hypnotic. Once she vanished from view, Nate give himself a little shake. _Happily Married Man_ , she thought to himself firmly and smiled inwardly at the thought of picking up Elena at the airport later.

The ever single Victor had no such need for self control. He whistled softly to himself. "Man … I tell ya Nate, it I was 30 years younger…"

"... You'd still have no chance, Sully. So stop the day dreaming and let's get back to business. Did you see what she was wearing?"

"Oh yes … sharp of you to spot it, not so sharp to draw attention to it! Show off. That will be back in her handbag in no time."

"Business Trip to Peru my ass, that must have taken years of work to unearth..."

"And now she's here hunting for the matching set."

Nate pulled out his pocket book and turned to the page which showed a sketch of the jewellery Lara had been wearing. The next page showed a set of earrings with similar markings, with a whole set of notes scribbled around the notches on the outside. In the glossy catalogue, lot number 428 featured photograph of a remarkably similar set, a gift from Dr Jones to his late wife, Marion Jones, on the occasion of their thirtieth wedding anniversary.

"If we're bidding against her, we're out of luck. She could buy and sell the whole catalogue for pocket money."

"Then it's a good thing we're only bidding for fun."

The two men smiled at each other. It was good to be back in business together again.

"Ladies, gentlemen, honoured guests, please take your seats, so that the auction can commence…"

"C'mon Sully. Let's go see if we can get seats with a good view."

"Of the pieces? Or your new lady friend?"

"Both…"


	2. Chapter 2

The humid air hung heavy with murmurs and anticipation, spritzed with expensive cologne and eau du parfum. Every major fashion house was represented in this elegant and well appointed Hampton's country mansion. Chanel, Yves Saint Laurent, Givenchy, Dior, Prada, Valentino… One would be forgiven for thinking that this was the opening event of the Paris Fashion Week. Although, Lara noted with distaste, the dresses would be a little more current and better fitted and the suits a little less customised to hide expensive side arms, if that were the case. Did these people not know that while style was timeless, fashion moved in seasons?

The expensive ceiling fans barely stirred the air in the crowded room. Lara shifted in her chair, her long elegant legs crossed, fanning herself with the expensive brochure, waiting for the first lot to start. The room was crammed with representatives from so many of the treasure hunting dynasties. Her mouth quirked in a tiny smile, thinking about what chaos one single call to the IRS would bring down upon this exclusive little gathering.

There was Alexa Petraki, looking every inch her sixty two years, flanked by a man who must surely be her brother in law, he looked so like Nicholas. They exchanged a discreet little finger wave across the room. No doubt she was here for the beautiful little Macedonian bracelet in lot 292.

Behind her was, oh goodness, there was Zhang Lo… she'd better do well to avoid him on the way out. He still looked so much younger than his brothers, clearly he'd inherited their role in the family business now that he was all grown up. What was he searching for? There was no telling with the Lo family.

There were so many members of the Illuminati, and it made an interesting little game for Lara to watch which ones knew of each other, which ones didn't, which awarenesses went one way… really, they'd stand a much better chance at long term world domination if they'd all come out of the closet to each other, they were even worse than the Scientologists…

Ah, and there were Mr Sullivan and Mr Drake. At least they'd had the good manners to introduce themselves without an alias. Although, there were so many open secrets in this room, it would be the height of rudeness to pretend a false identity. Lara giggled to herself as Victor's appreciative glance swept across her as Nate slapped him discreetly on the arm. It was nice to know she could still have this effect when she put the style on. Such as shame that Nate was married, he really was a beautiful man, and she would just bet that there was a fascinating web of scars and stories that spread across the skin of that firm, toned…

"Ladies, Gentlemen, Honoured Guests…"

 _Ahem!_ Back to business.

"We are pleased to present lot 101. This magnificent portrait of Professor Henry Walton Jones, painted in 1973, a gift from Marshall College upon his appointment to the position of Professor Emeritus at the Department of Archaeology and Anthropology, painted by…"

Lara zoned out. The portrait she'd been admiring with her new acquaintances was magnificent but not of interest to her. Hillary would no doubt be ecstatic if she brought it home to add to the collection for him to dust and polish, but really this portrait should only go to someone who simply adored Professor Jones. The sort of person who fell in love across time, hopelessly and utterly, who would bid him good morning and good night with a longing in their soul. There were two or three candidates shifting restlessly in their seats already, some in their seventies, former students perhaps? There was also one enthusiastic old dear who had to be over ninety, panting in her wheelchair. That dear man had obviously left a trail of broken hearts across the world on his travels.

She flipped back through the glossy brochure to the lot that had brought her across the oceans to this event. Lot 428. Perhaps she had been foolish to wear the necklace today, but truly, she couldn't resist. This was the best thing that had come out of her trip to Peru, and spying the earrings had been too much of a temptation. Not only were they exquisite, unique and examples of master craftsmanship, they held the key to a long slumbering mystery which had intrigued her since her first visit to South America.

"Lot 179, a small wooden drinking vessel, hand carved, believed to be one of several made by Dr Henry Jones Sr. toward the end of his life..."

If the presence of several elderly and agitated Cardinals from the Catholic and Orthodox Greek Churches was anything to judge by, then one of the wilder rumours about Professor Jones and his adventures with his father deserved to be given credence. Victor Sullivan was giggling into his complimentary champagne. She couldn't decide whether that meant he was unaware of the story, or simply aware of all of it.

"Lot 293, 'The Staff of Ra'. An heirloom of the Ravenwood family, passed down from father to daughter, inherited by Mr Henry Williams, a beautifully wrought golden medallion, inscribed with egyptian heiroglyphics…"

 _Here we go…_

As expected, bidding on this item was fierce. However, towards the end there were only few to rival Lara's bidding power. An aristocratic pile of inheritance did have some compensations it was true. A neat and orderly $2.5million and Lara had secured her first purchase. Was it just her, or did Sullivan look nervous ... and Drake seemed... optimistic? Clearly Sullivan knew the extent of her fortune while Drake was hoping that she'd spent herself out. Sensing that several of the prestigious audience may need to review their spending power and priorities, the auctioneer wisely called a halt and arranged for refreshments to be served.

Now, should she be a good girl and focus strictly on business? Or was this an opportunity to play a few little games? She fished out a compact mirror to check her lipstick and pull the odd artless curl into place. Across the room, Nate Drake raised a glass of champagne to her with a quirked eyebrow of invitation. Well… she smiled, after all, there was no reason why she couldn't mix business with a little pleasure…

***

"What in the world are you waving to that woman for?"

"Relax Sully, didn't you just say yourself she was an absolute delight?"

"To look at across the room, sure, but for polite small talk, I didn't mean…"

"Sully, she's wearing half of what we need around that pretty throat of hers. I'd far rather have her where I can see here, wouldn't you?"

"Well now that you say it like that…"

"Gentlemen…"

"Lara, my dear, a pleasant day so far?"

"Extremely…" Lara set her empty glass down on a passing tray.

"You appear to have had one of the most hotly contested successes so far?"

"The Staff of Ra? Oh yes … my father used to tell me stories about it. He would joke about using it to find hidden objects in my room when I was just a little girl."

 _We're being tested_ , thought Nate, shrewdly. _She's seeing how much we're aware of_.

"So long as he remembered to read both sides."

Her eyes narrowed in appreciative amusement. "Quite."

 _Heh, gotcha. We're better read than you think lady._

"And do you have your eye on anything today?"

"My eye? Plenty," Sully's legendary smile crinkled across his cheeks. "My wallet might be another matter. But what's this my dear, are you scoping out the competition?"

"Oh, dear no Victor, I'd be talking with the Russians if that were the case. But just between us, any little gems?"

"Well … let's just say lot 950 has significant sentimental value."

"Sentimental?"

"All of us have a story that got us hooked. This was the one for me."

Lara flipped through the booklet and understood instantly when her eyes settled on the small statue, rendered in what had to be solid gold. The oversized bald head, the grimace of bared teeth, obviously a fertility idol.

"Beautiful … but I think the booklet is incorrect. It's not Incan, is it…"

"An easy mistake to make. But you are quite correct, it's older than Incan. Chachapoyan. Likely based on an even older artifact, possibly Aztec."

"It must be worth…"

"Billions."

A beat of silence passed between them as each of them realised that even if their efforts were pooled and all favours called in, they could never afford to bid on such a delicious little piece of history. A flicker of fear passed over all of their faces in quick succession as they all glanced around, wondering who in the room had the resources to compete for, and secure, such an artefact.

"What about you, Nathan?"

"Oh…" he smiled, playing his cards close to his chest. "Just looking, in all likelihood. I'd have an interest in some of the notebooks, depending on the reserve price. We'll see."

"Do excuse me gentlemen, I need to go and see an old friend…"

Nate craned his head to see who she was going to meet and cringed inwardly to see her embrace Alexa Petraki. At least that wasn't someone he'd ever knowingly ended up on the wrong side of, and very glad he was for that the continue to be the case. There were a few people here who had him tempted to duck around pillars based on reputation alone, but there weren't too many personal ghosts, thank goodness.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, Honoured Guests…" the Maitre D's illustrious voice intoned across the reception room, gathering his guests back together for part two of the auction.

"Well," Sully drained the last of his champagne. "Let's get back to it Nate. You all set for the right lot?"

Nate's glance drifted across the room and lighted upon another stunning brunette guest, a slick sight for sore eyes in an immaculate black Gucci dress. The slightest ghost of a wink and Chloe Fraser turned her back, as planned, and went to take her seat.

"Oh yeah," he set down his own barely touched glass, razor sharp and alert. "Locked and loaded Sully. Locked and loaded."


	3. Chapter 3

**3 Hours Later…**

Nate glanced around the room and saw that most of the casual visitors to the auction had long since given up and drifted away, retrieved by drivers in their expensive cars and ushered off to equally exclusive hotels and country clubs no doubt. Only the really serious bidders remained now, and he had scoped out the competition.

The Chinese contingent, lead by Zhang Lo, had retired an hour since, clutching their receipt for a jade and gold dragon sculpture from the first Ming dynasty.

The Greeks had been satisfied with their bracelet purchase and relieved to see that the Orthodox Church had succeeded in their bid for the wooden goblet. There had obviously been some combined force bidding there.

He had expected more serious contributions from the Russians, but they had left with a respectable stash of period piece and vintage weaponry. Including a worn and split bull whip, which had been sold for, in Nate's opinion, an inflated sum of money. Goodness knows why they had such an interest in an everyday item. Although, there was nothing in this auction that could truly be defined as run-of-the-mill.

Nate's ears had pricked up to hear an unpleasantly familiar Serbian dialect on the telephone and made a point not to bid for anything that the voice on the telephone expressed an interest in. The last thing he wanted to risk was tipping off any of Lazarević's family and associates to his continued existence.

He had secured three of the late Professor's journals through some judicious bidding, and not too high above the price he had mentally bracketed for them. A sound investment. Particularly the one relating to a trip to Peru in 1936, which promised to yield all kinds of interesting tidbits.

Now there were two lots left. The golden earrings, and the final journal, dated 1948.

Nate shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Easy, boy…" Sully's voice was barely a purr in the seat next to him. "Just stick to the plan, alright…"

The earrings took pride of place, and the bidding began.

Within three bids, Nate knew he was beaten, and couldn't afford to continue, but as planned, he continued to bid. The war between him and Lara sparked interest across the room. People gasped as the two cool voices vibrated with excitement.

As Lara placed her bid for $5 million dollars, in the regular raise of $200,000 which had become the set pace, Nate leaped to his feet and called out the raise of $6 million.

Without skipping a beat, Lara met the price and raised the bid to $7.5 million.

"Now…" Sully's quiet voice whispered as he stepped into roll.

"Take it easy, boy…"

Nate threw his booklet to one side, and stormed out of the room, causing an almighty stir.

Lara took the bidding victory with $7.5 million, and settled into smugness, barely even noticing when Chloe calmly carried off the final journal for the relatively paltry price of $15,000 dollars…

 _ **2 Weeks Later**_

On West 52nd Street, in Hell's Kitchen, there was a tavern, called Mo's. An Irish themed bar, which was comfortably shabby, run down and gloomy enough for the dodgiest deal to go down in unobserved comfort. The regulars were reliably deaf and blind to anything that people might ask about, and Mo, even if he was really called Mo, had a memory that could not be jogged by badges or any jurisdiction or wodges of green money of any size. In short, it was exactly the sort of place that Nate and Sully felt instantly comfortable.

Sat in a small booth, tucked snugly away from the window, they slugged their Budweisers and listened to the familiar mix of New York Irish folk music.

The bell above the door jingled, barely audibly, and in walked their expected companion.

"I might have known," Chloe intoned with amusement, "that you two would find the least reputable bar possible for our rendezvous."

"Hey, it suits our purposes."

"Well quite," Chloe lifted an empty bud bottle and flashed her best and most winning smile toward the bar, swirling an elegant finger around the group to indicate the need for a round. "I can't imagine Lady Muck setting foot in here."

"Ohhh, don't be so sure on that Chloe. But I am reliably informed that she's on her way back to England."

"First class…"

"Of course, toting the most hotly contested item of the auction."

"With an insurance price tag to match. By the way, you cut a dashing figure in Vanity Fair Mr Drake, quite the Mr Darcy tantrum you threw on the way out of the door."

Her mock stern expression melted into a smile as her delight at a scheme well executed leaked into every feature of her face.

"And you pulled off your role perfect, my dear. Thank you my good man…" Sully paid for the round and tipped the waiter generously to make him go away.

"Well, of course I did. That bit was always a guarantee."

"So you've got it?"

"That depends…"

"On what…?"

"Am I in…?"

Nate and Sully looked at each other, and then turned back to her.

"You were never out Chloe. This is the big one. We need you. We need everyone."

"Everyone?" Chloe tossed back her beer.

"Everyone."

Another female voice chirped behind her. Chloe turned to see Elena stood behind her seat.

"Budge up sweetie. Room for one more."

She slid into the booth, plonking her own bottle onto the table top. "Wow…" Chloe's surprised gaze flicked back and forth between Nate and Elena, who exchanged a glance of long married appreciation. "You really did mean everyone."

"Did you think I would let him come out of retirement without me? And this is the only thing that would have persuaded me to do it…"

"So…" Nate broke back in. "Do you have it?"

Chloe smiled slowly. "Oh yeah…"

From her back pocket, she pulled out the final journal that she'd been bidding on in the shade of Nate's scene, the unassuming brown book that had barely made an impact on the memory of any other buyer.

Nate picked it up gingerly, reverently.

"How did you know?"

"We can thank Katherine Marlowe for this one."

"That old bat?"

"Aye," Sully smiled. "She was good for something. A piece of paper in her library tipped us off to this little treasure. We already had the drawings of the necklace and earrings, but they're worthless without the ability to translate what's written on them."

"And this provides the translation?"

"This … is the last legible record translating the language of the Kawka."

"You mean Kawki? The ancient Peruvian language?"

"Close, but not quite… This one is a little older, infinitely rarer today, and a damn sight more difficult to translate."

"But Doctor Jones did?"

"Oh yes … and he had the wit to write it down. And it's right here. In this book."

All four of them gazed at the book in disbelief. The last written record of an ancient language, which meant little to anyone outside of this room. Except perhaps for a handful of people with their particular interests and expertise. Including a very rich young woman, with striking jewellery and probably a castle or two, all the way across the sea in England.

"So … we can use this to translate the inscriptions?"

"Oh you bet."

"So that's at the end of this rainbow then, Nate? What did I have to wear those god awful high heels and rib crushingly tight dress for?"

"Oh Chloe, this is the big one. This is going to tell us where we can find the End of the World."

Chloe blinked.

"Please tell me you are shitting me."

"Nope. Absolutely promise."

"The End of the World? The actual calendar, the real one, not just the one that the Mayan's copied and got wrong?"

"Well, obviously they got it wrong," Elena was chuckling to herself. "We're well into the twenty first century, we didn't all die in 2012."

"Well yeah, but…"

"There was a theory, that the Mayan calendar was incorrect. There was a mistake in it, a fundamental error made before it's construction, which meant the date was out. But there is an original, a countdown, one that tells us more accurately when the end of the world is due to happen."

"And we want to know because?"

Sully guffawed. "Well, I'd like to trade in my stock options and have a party for one thing… They're not worth much more than one good knees up after what that tangerine buffoon did to the economy. But in all seriousness, the prices that those pieces sold for at that auction would pale in comparison to what folks would pay for this piece."

"Legitimate fame, legitimate fortune… We could finish the last ever hunt of Doctor Indiana Jones."

"You think this was the last big one? The one he never got chance to do?"

"We know he booked several trips back to Peru toward the end of his life, but he was too ill to make the trip. This journal was found in his possession on the day he died. I think this was the one that got away, the one that he never managed to complete, but couldn't bear to pass on in case he was wrong."

"Was he ever wrong?"

"Judging by what we saw in that auction room, very rarely."

"So … we're really doing this? We're going to Peru?"

"First stop Peru. Then … who knows?"

"Uh huh. Well… it's good that I keep my travel vaccinations up to date."

"We all do, Chloe. Force of habit."

Elena linked her fingers with Nate's. The wedding rings had worn a little thinner, but there still gleamed.

"So what persuaded you two out of retirement?"

Nate and Elena looked at each other with a mixture of pride and disgust.

"Cassie."

"What about her?"

Elena gave the sort of elaborate roll of eyes and sigh that only suits a mother.

"She's too damn good at what we do, that's what. Top of every class and looking into scholarships and applications for ridiculously expensive schools… she's already set her heart on Oxford and the School of Archaeology… she's there now, on a scholarship to their summer school..."

"And…"

"And we don't have the money, Chloe. We can't pay for that sort of education. $30,000 a year, in fees alone, before we factor in travel, living costs, books and tech, everything she will need..."

Nate's face looked drained. Dreadful for an instant. Beset by a fear of failure. The idea that he might not be able to provide what was needed to give his daughter everything, the start in life that he'd never had.

Chloe's heart bled for the two of them in that instant. And just like that she was in until the bitter end.

"And you're sure we don't need that jewellery?"

Elena, Nate and Sully looked at each other, the small tension broken, glee breeding into their grins. For a moment they struggled holding in their delight, before finally bursting into a gurgle of helpless laughter.

"No … definitely not, we've got what we need…"

"How long do you think it will be before she realises that they're useless without the translation?"

"She's spent too long dreaming about the Staff of Ra."

"The Staff of Ra…" Nate clunked his beer down in disgust. "I mean seriously… yes having the artifacts is half the battle, but didn't that tale teach her that the value of an accurate translation is worth more than anything?"

"You did check that there was nothing on the back of the earrings, right?"

Nate grinned at Elena.

"What do you take me for? The journal has detailed drawings of both the front AND back, earrings and necklace. That little tale warned people well about that mistake. AND there's a rubbing of the edges too, in case of any relevant nicks or cuts."

"Nothing to worry about?"

"Not a thing. The front contains all the information. You just need to be able to read it. Which we can now."

"Well…" Chloe raised her bottle as a toast. "Here's to the end of the world."

The unorthodox toast, "The End Of The World!" rang across the bar to the sound of clinking bottle necks. One or two of the regulars looked up. Only in New York, and only in Mo's, would you hear such a toast given with gusto before 5pm…


	4. Chapter 4

The gates slid silently closed behind the rolls royce as it glided towards the front entrance of the stately home. Lara sighed in something approaching contentment. Croft Manor might be a millstone around her neck in terms of responsibility, but for all its expensive and ongoing issues, it was still home. And the closest thing she knew to family was waiting outside the door for her.

"Good evening M'lady."

Lara sighed inwardly. She'd known him since she was 12. She'd given up on asking him to call her Lara when he was 16. He'd been persuaded to drop 'Lady Croft' in favour of 'My Lady' when she was 21, as a graduation present. He'd now shortened it to 'm'lady'. She viewed that as a term of affection. Normally Hillary abhorred the use of contractions within speech.

"How was your flight, M'lady?"

An immaculate gloved hand gestured for some other minions to hurry forward and unload the car for her as she walked in, handing off her hat, glasses, jacket and bag to the man who trailed after her with the devotion of a puppy and the staid respectability of the very best Butler.

"Delightfully boring. Absolutely no eventful incidents."

"I'm very pleased to hear it M'lady."

He was too. Aeroplane trips were not always so uneventful in the Croft dynasty.

Waiting in her study was a tray, set with an immaculately presented egg sandwich, fluffy white bread cut into finger breadth slices, a packet of Walkers crisps decanted into a small china dish and a very large Bloody Mary, a tall stalk of celery peeping out of the top. Tabasco sauce and pepper stood to one side on a small condiment tray.

"Hillary … angel…" Lara kicked off her high heels and curled up instantly into the waiting loveseat arm chair, heedless of the linen trousers she wore and the creases that would be pressed into them, picking up and demolishing the first slice of sandwich before reaching for the Bloody Mary, tasting and then adding a little pepper and one dash from the sauce bottle. "Oh you know me so well…"

"Jet lag cure as order, M'lady." Hillary stooped to collect her shoes and scooped them out of sight, returning with two fluffy pink slippers, Lara stretched out her feet in a contented sigh as he popped them onto her toes.

"Oh that's better… you are worth every single penny I have ever paid you on days like today."

A big slurp of the rich thick drink brought some colour back to her cheeks.

"Where do you want the baggage, M'lady? Is it all for your room?"

"All except the green leather box. Bring that through here please…"

Hillary dispatched his minions about the place as Lara leafed through her waiting mail, tucking into the rest of her unorthodox snack and wriggling her toes to get the feeling back into them after their long incarceration in their Louboutin hell. Not much to deal with, thank heavens. Some news about investments that would require her Lady-Croft-Brain at some point, but they could wait. A letter from Cecil, neatly typed, inviting her to stay at his house in Chelsea for season next year… adorable, but so boring. Oh but he was such a good boy, always on hand with a discreet place to stay before she flew out from Heathrow at ungodly hours, and never complaining when she turned up unexpectedly to attend short notice and bizarre collection debuts at the Natural History Museum.

Clementina and Annabella were off on their tour of Eastern Europe; Lithuania, Estonia, Belarus, Latvia … lordy, it was like something out of the Communist Barbie Manifesto! Perhaps she could catch up with them in Croatia. Goodness, they did talk a lot though, acres of tissue thin paper, embossed in Harrods, scribbled over with fountain pen, spritzed with Eau de Jolie; even following the swirling loops of the cursive writing made Lara's head ache. She'd been on expeditions to the Bolivian jungle that took less time and intricate planning than one of their girly trips away.

There was a refreshing and restoring postcard from Sam though. Now that girl knew how to keep up a correspondence that suited Lara. A snappy postcard, containing a witty joke or two, a hint about her filming adventures in the Sahara Desert and a promise to share all the gossip on their next dinner out at Rules. At the back there was an embossed envelope, thick and weighty.

Ah this was more like it!

Ripping open the expensive brown envelope, postmarked Cambridge, Lara settled into a long awaited missive from her father's friend, Professor Harris. Excellent, better late than never.

Slurping the last of her drink, Lara skimmed through the letter. "Please to hear … hmmm … yes… 'wish I could visit in person….' not right now, thank you dear… 'visit to Mexico, funded by…' very nice… yes yes ... ah!"

Discarding her glass, Lara sat up bolt upright, legs crossed, hunched forward over the letter and read aloud to herself.

"I studied the photographs and yes, I do believe they are the artefacts we discussed…" Well I already knew that. "Predating the Incan Empire, and the markings are consistent with the ancient languages of the region…" yes yes yes… come on … "It looks very similar to Kawki, my colleague in the Centre for Latin American Studies concurs that the two scripts are related, but there are some key differences. We can likely provide a translation for most of the pieces, but there remain a few sigils for which we have no known point of reference…"

Lara's voice trailed off and the leaves slipped through her fingers.

No known point of reference.

The words guaranteed to strike fear into the heart of any student of ancient history.

Followed by a glimmer of fire, the sort that can only be stoked by a challenge.

Hillary returned at this crucial juncture.

"Here we are, the green b… M'lady! Are you quite well?"

Lara gave herself a shake and leaned forward, out of her trance, to retrieve her fallen letter.

"A little set back in the research, that's all Hills."

Hillary's lip twitched. He hated it when she shortened his name. A habit she'd picked up during her time in America. It always seemed to resurface for a while when she returned from a trip to that place.

"Oh dear. A serious one?"

"I hope not … but I may need to go library hopping for a while."

"There's no possibility that one of your family friends could assist, M'lady?"

He still stood holding the green box.

"I had hoped that Professor Harris might hold the key to this little problem, but he appears to have run dry of inspiration. Ah, yes, my purchase…" Lara stretched out her hands in an excited gimme-gimme-gimme gesture. Hillary handed it over, smiling as if indulging a child.

She slipped the catch and opened the box. There they lay. Quite magnificent. Gleaming, the etchings clear and perfect, the markings almost as crisp as the day they were made, hundreds and hundreds of years ago.

"Marvellous…" Hillary breathed. "Incan. No … older than that. Pre Incan, certainly. Wari?"

"Close…" Gently, Lara lifted one of the earrings and turned it to see all of the facets in the light. "Tiwanaku."

"My, but they are very fine. Might...ahem," Hillary leaned over her shoulder to see them more clearly, catching a whiff of her perfume, as he cleared his throat a little. "Might one enquire as to what … precise percentage of the Croft family fortune they now represent?"

Lara smiled to herself, returning her treasure to its box and securing the lid. "Now now, Hillary, when you ask questions like that and I give you honest answers, you tend to need to lie down in a dark room to recover for a while."

"And … how long would that recovery take this time? Minutes, or hours?"

"Oh at least a day, I should think…"

Hillary swallowed discreetly. "I see. Should I start reviewing the insurance policies for Croft Manor?"

"Yes, but discreetly. It wouldn't do to have those hawks knowing exactly what lives in the vault here."

Abruptly she turned and gave Hillary a bunched up, juvenile kiss on the cheek.

"You are a darling to take care of all this for me. I don't know what I'd do without you Hills. And now, I am in simply dire need of a long bath and an even longer think..."

Despite the liberty, Hillary swallowed a deeply satisfied smile as she gathered up her correspondence and set off in the direction of her suite.

* * *

 **Meanwhile in New York...**

Chloe emerged from the shower, finally giving up on teasing any more hot water out of the overloaded system. Reaching for her rode, she flinched as the upstairs neighbours started banging on walls and shouting at each other again.

She would give them five minutes before poking at the ceiling with the broom handle to remind them of her existence. And not a second longer.

Returning to her bedroom, she flopped across the bed with a long sigh. She couldn't wait to be out of here. And this time, when she returned, she fervently hoped to be able to afford better than this one bedroom rat trap of an apartment in Queens.

Rolling over, she scooped her documents off the bedside table. The post had spit back out the visas and stamps that she needed this morning, and already some of them weight was lifting off her shoulders. She leafed through the passport pages, remembering her old adventures, before landing on the new pages, with stamps for Peru, Bolivia, El Salvador, Ecuador, Columbia, and Chile. Flight departing at 11pm tonight to San Salvador, a layover of 13 hours, then a flight to Lima, a quick stop of 1 hour, and then a final flight to Cusco.

Chloe had pushed hard to terminate the journey at Lima. They were just under six hours drive from their first major destination there, but Nate had insisted they push on to Cusco, saying he had a contact to meet there, who would be worth the trouble. Chloe couldn't imagine for a moment who would be worth an additional 18 hour drive back over the mountains, but she'd been outnumbered and outvoted. Urgh. Never mind, there was plenty of time to brood later.

They'd have dinner tonight in the Bronx, then head out to the airport for the night flight. Sully apparently knew some fantastic little Argentinian place where they could all get steaks for next to nothing.

She flicked through her rucksack bag, already mostly packed. Couple of pairs of combats, some vest tops, long sleeved hiking gear, sweater for the flight, socks and more socks. What was it Nadine always said? More socks the merrier! A sleeping bag made of reflective material that squashed down to almost nothing, a blow up pillow. She was getting soft in her middle age, gone were the days of enjoying all the comforts of a rock floor. Next came some fancy gloves and hat for mountain exploring, a nice Christmas present from Nate last year. First aid kit, heavy on the bandages and antiseptic swabs. The fix-it-all kit that had been a gift from Sully, a bit like a Swiss army knife, but flat as a pancake, fit-able into most wallets, with the added bonus of a bottle opener, cork screw and lock pick. Fingers crossed she wouldn't need it, but you never knew. Poncho, sunblock, wrap shades, wipes, hairbrush, toiletries bag… with over the counter meds for sickness and diarrhoea, water purifying tablets, basic sets of painkillers, anti bug spray. Empty water bottles nestled in the side pockets of the bag. She'd fill them up later.

Chloe tipped out a few things that she could jettison. Her dress and heels from the auction were already packed in a Goodwill bag, along with the cheap but flashy jewellery that had been as good as the real thing. Her makeup and samples of perfume now joined it, she wouldn't need them again for this journey. A few changes of new yorker clothing followed. A pair of jeans, some sweaters, t-shirts, all too heavy to tote along for this journey.

Boots she would wear, jacket too. She checked her combat trouser pockets. Mobile phone, charger cable (she grabbed the multi country plug from the wall, not wanting to forget in her last hurry) spare powerpack, purse with her currency, document wallet … she replaced her passport with its stamps, added her vaccination paperwork just in case the border guards decided to get weird.

This all used to be second nature. Why was she so nervous about this trip?

Was it because Nate was going?

Not really. Any tension there had long since evaporated, mist off the mountainside, an old memory but intangible, something that had never really existed. For such reasons, she didn't really mind Elena coming along either. Not so rough and ready as the people she normally travelled with, but she'd proved her metal many times over. She was a good one. The best fit for Nate, it had to be admitted. Even if only grudgingly or silently.

No, her uneasiness wasn't because of anyone going, it was who wasn't going.

She missed Nadine. It was like an ache in the stomach. A bittersweet one. That sort of missing that you get for someone you've never really been with. Not in the way you wanted to.

"I think it's best if we just keep this professional Chloe…"

She shook her head to clean out the memory.

Annoyingly, insultingly, the couple in the room upstairs had ceased their row, but the rhythmic thumping and the squeaking of springs through the ceiling gave indelible hints to their current activities.

An unexpected twinge of lust shot through her, a strange shoot of adrenaline after her self indulgent memory lapse. How long had it been since she'd had a really good fuck? Far too long, that's how long. God it was a shame that Nate was married. She could do with one right now, and she was absolutely certain Elena wasn't the type to share.

"You know I think a lot of you, but I just don't see this going that way…"

Dear Gods, she'd actually used that line herself. That was embarrassing.

Urgh. No. Stop dwelling.

Her phone beeped with immaculate timing.

Sully. The only person in the world who still sent text messages rather than using facebook or Whatsapp.

Buy an old man a drink?

Why not. It was better than brooding here.

She leaned out of the window to see him standing on the street below. Good old Sully, smoking his ever present cigar, his havana shirt of dubious turquoise and clean white Panama hat the only splashes of colour in the run down neighbourhood. His own pack sat at his feet. Clearly he was done with hotel life too.

"Oi! Vintage!" she yelled.

He looked up and grinned.

"Cocktails before dinner, sunshine?"

"You bet, be right down…"

She scrambled into her clothes, abandoning the robe, and slicked her hair back into its accustomed braid. In the ten or so minutes she'd spend brooding, it had practically dried. In no time, she was presentable. Out of habit, she fastened her side arm into the holster beneath her jacket, the permit tucked into her pocket. She was getting respectable to carry such a thing with her. But in America these days, you just couldn't take the risk. Grabbing her pack, she swung out of the room without a backward glance. A tequila sunrise beckoned. A nice, big strong one.


	5. Chapter 5

"Are we doing the right thing?"

Nate was careful to keep his sigh imaginary. The slightest puff under his breath was audible to Elena's radar like senses. And she had become very familiar with the twists of this conversation, it had played out so many times, and they had always arrived at the point that brought them to this mid budget hotel in Hell's Kitchen. Together.

He turned to face her, took her hands and gestured for her to sit on the bed beside him.

"Honey, if we do this one more time, will you promise me that we don't need to repeat it on the plane tonight?"

Elena's mouth twisted into that smile. The one that meant she knew he was right but didn't want to admit it outloud.

"I can't do this without you." He looked straight into her face, dropping all the artifice and jokey manner.

"You used to say you couldn't do it with me. That I second guessed you and got in the way and slowed you down."

"I need to slow down. Seriously. Going at breakneck pace lead to me hanging off the cliff in a crashed train with a bullet in my gut."

"That and your abysmal taste in friends and allies…"

"Well. Yes." The ghost of Harry Flynn and his betrayal still hung bitter around the edge of Nate's memory.

Elena touched his face, bringing him back to the present.

"What if something happens to us? What about Cassie?"

Nate closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"This is for Cassie. We agreed."

"I know, we agreed, we need the money for her, but what if she needs us more than she needs money?"

"Do you want to stop now Elena, is that what this is…?"

"No, it's just…"

The Ipad on the desktop chimed, with impeccable timing. The ringing sound bringing through a video call. Cassie.

Elena grabbed for the Ipad, fingers clumsy with eagerness to talk to her daughter.

"Nate, it's Cassie, it's Cassie!"

Between them they managed to click the button required to answer, with the pad skewed between them. Cassie laughed as her parents appeared in an enthusiastic huddle on her screen.

"Gaaaad, you guys, it's an Ipad, it's not hard to use!"

"We're just excited to talk to you baby girl!" Elena's voice, high pitched, edged towards tears, as it always did when she was separated from her daughter. Nate had seen so many calls like this between the two, when Cassie was away visiting, or Elena away working.

Cassie looked awesome, to his eyes. She'd had a few braids but into her hair. Her freckles had filled out from her time out in the sun on the summer school digs. There was an endearing smudge of brown on her nose. She looked bright and alive, fulfilled.

"So how are you? All packed for the plane? What time is it where you are?"

"It is…" Nate checked his wristwatch, "Almost six thirty. We're meeting Chloe and uncle Sully in a little while."

"Don't leave it too long, or he'll start without you."

"It's so great to see you baby girl, are you having fun, is the scheme going ok and…?"

"Mom! I'm fine, the school is brilliant, I love the digs, I'm eating properly and I haven't lost my retainer. Does that check all the boxes?"

Elena nodded excitedly and hiccuped, fanning a hand at her face to make her silly tears recede.

"So Dad, is Mom wanting to turn back yet?"

Elena and Nate turned to each other and guffed with laughter. God, their daughter knew them well.

"RIght on time honey. I just made her promise that we won't repeat the conversation on the plane."

"Well don't do it now. I want you to listen to me Mom. You too Dad."

Abashed and a little stunned, they took the lead from their precocious daughter.

"I know that this was a huge decision for you. I mean, I know why you're doing it. And I love you forever-to-the-moon-and-back for it, for even thinking of it. But that's not why you've got to go. Ever since you told me about all the things you used to get up to, all those adventures you had, I can see that you've changed. You're thinking about it all the time. You miss it, on some level. Especially you, Dad…"

Nate felt as though something was breaking in his chest. Something sweet and warm and exquisitely painful all at the same time. Had it been that obvious? It was now.

"And Mom? You miss it too. Don't pretend you don't. I know why you've been taking those camera crew jobs in central Africa and Columbia now, you miss the rush…"

Elena reached for Nate's hand out of shot and nodded a little. Nate was surprised, but also not. It made complete sense.

Cassie giggled.

"You guys are SUCH adrenaline junkies. You know, normally when parents take kids to theme parks, its us champing to go on the worst roller coasters, but you were always first in the queue."

"You got us there, Little Bit." Elena squeezed Nate's hand tighter as his old nickname for their daughter leaked back into conversation.

"Damn right I do. So listen up. This is the big one. I know that. People have dangled stuff before you in the past, yeah, and I can see that now. You'd get all, I dunno, bright eyed and jumpy and then you, like, simmer down in a day or two and our guests would go away and stop calling… but this one's different. You've been like, I dunno, jumping cats, for weeks now. Months, really."

"And I just can't DEAL with it anymore! You are both impossible. You need to go and do this and just stop thinking about it. And I know you say it's for me, and I get that, but you need to go and do it. For you. I just wish I could come with you."

"Not a chance, Little Bit."

Elena grabbed the iPad.

"You stay exactly where you are, young lady!"

Cassie laughed, her image pixilating for a moment as she moved quickly, flipping her hair.

"Mom, I'm having a great time here, and I will have my own adventures one day, but right now, you gotta go. Seriously. So just go."

Elena and Nate turned to each other and smiled.

"Oh God, if you're going to get soppy I'm going to just go…"

They turned back to the screen.

"You're right honey, and we will talk about all of this when we come back in a few weeks time. And we'll be home before all your course finishes, but just in case we're delayed, you know what to…?"

"Yes Mom, I know," Cassie was both frustrated and bored, but also a little amused. "If you're not back by the time it finishes up, I have to call Uncle Sam and check in with him, call Gramma Fisher and let her know, and then call Uncle Charlie and go stay with him in London until one of you, or Gramma Fisher, can come to get me. I know. I got this."

"Of course you do. And it's all going to be fine."

"Ok, well, I gotta go, it's really time I got to sleep."

"Night night…!"

"Sleep tight, baby girl…"

"And we'll be home soon."

"I know. Good night Mom, Dad, I love you both…"

"We love you too…"

The screen went blank. Cassie knew to keep the goodbyes short and sweet.

Nate put his arm around Elena, as she leaned against his shoulder. For a few moments, they didn't look at each other, just sat together, the iPad frozen in Elena's hands. There was peace. Unity. Understanding without words. It was the most relaxed that Nate had felt in days.

"Nate…"

"Hmmm?"

Elena finally turned her face up to meet his gaze.

"OK. I promise not to do this again on the plane. And I really need a drink."

Nate leaned down and kissed his wife, relishing her sweetness, her warmth, the unique taste of her. He was so relieved that she was coming with him on this last big adventure.

"You and me both, kiddo," he murmured against her lips. "What's say we go see about a drink before that steak dinner, huh?"

"Sounds like an amazing plan."

 **Meanwhile, in England…**

Lara was indulging in a bath.

She didn't often. She was more of a shower-and-run kind of woman, but there were times when she just needed a long think, total privacy and some indulgence.

The bathroom at Croft Manor resembled an upmarket spa. Tilled in white, with fluffy white bathmats scattered around, a mirror surrounded with lights like a theatre dressing room and glassed cupboards for all manner of scents, lotions and potions, it was the epitome of luxury. The bath itself was sunken, round, shaped like a jaccuzi with a shelf seating, but roomy enough to stretch out and float. Heaped high with foamy bubbles and hot as a sauna, Lara wriggled her toes above the waterline and relaxed.

A stack of fresh white towels was piled to one side and all of Lara's thinking material sat within hand's reach, along with a box of crystalized pineapple and a glass of chardonnay. _Never do any thinking on an empty stomach_ her father used to say _. Even if you're in the bath._

She flipped through the letter from Professor Harris one last time, but finally cast it aside, exhausted by his air of defeatism. Urgh, was there ever anything so boring as a man who didn't believe that something could be done? She doubted it. She picked up the auction booklet and flipped through the pages again.

Had she missed something?

Surely there must have been more to Doctor Jones's findings that she had thought. She had assumed that the language on the jewellery was Kawki. Ancient, yes. Awkward, absolutely. But there were sufficient people and expertise to translate it if you really put your mind to finding it. But if it wasn't Kawki, if it was some off shoot…

She took a slurp from her glass and pondered. She knew that the good professor had tried, several times towards the end of his life, to book trips to South America, but each time he had been thwarted by ill health. By the time he died, his elderly wife was already wheelchair bound and in no condition to chase off after her husband's dreams. Their son, Henry Williams, simply hadn't shared their passion to the same all consuming and reckless extent.

But something had drawn him to South America, and the last serious acquisition in his estate had been the earrings. He'd only lost out on the necklace through bad luck and some underhanded manipulations from a certain Columbian Drug Lord, who was now languishing in a cell in rural Bolivia. His wife and child, only too keen to start a new life in America, had been more than happy to exchange the necklace of Lara's discreet arrangement of sponsorship and aid through a woman's charity that she donated heavily to.

He must have been seeking the necklace, and he MUST have had a way to translate what was written on the earrings. And it must have lead him to the same tantalizing conclusions that Lara had reached. _The end of the world…_

Had she overlooked an expert in South America? It was unlikely. Most of the world renowned academics couldn't wait to leave, to secure places in Harvard, Yale, Oxford, Cambridge, the Sorbonne… She'd gone through the entire directory…

This was no good. She definitely crunched on a piece of pineapple. She was retreading old ground. She needed to switch tack. She needed to think like Indiana Jones.

Picking up the brochure again, she flipped through the articles and read their descriptions in more detail, studied the pictures.

"If you had the most brilliant clue to the biggest puzzle never solved, where would you hide it, you old bastard?"

She lighted on the portrait and wound up staring at him. His face was strong, with defined features. There was a slight wave to his hair, a suggestion that it would have run riot beyond the strictly imposed short back and sides of a successful academic. His eyes were just delectable to stare at. No wonder so many women had lost their hearts to him over the years.

"Where would you keep your secret hidden?" she murmured. "There wasn't a hiding place in the world that you couldn't find. You wouldn't have trusted a hiding place. Too much temptation."

Her eyes strayed to the piles of papers on his table. She could just imagine him having refused all efforts at tidying up, making his study respectable for the prestigious portrait. No, that would have messed with his filing system, his open organisation, so like her father's…

She closed her eyes and pictured her father. When he had been unravelling great secrets, he had kept them close at hand. She learned by her teens that when she came in unexpectedly, his hand would fly to cover the most recent part of his discovery, whether it be a notebook, or piece of paper…

Notebook…

Frowning to herself, her eyes snapped open. She reached for the glass, took an unladylike swig and sat up straight. She peered at the page with the portrait and focused on the desk.

There was his hand… resting on a notebook, with pages peeping out.

Her eyes widened, as she pulled the page even closer, focusing on the papers. Those sigils…

"Shiiiiit…"

Lara stood up, slopped water over the sides, heedless of the mess.

"Oh shit, you little bollocks…"

Scrambling out of the bath, she reached for her thick towelling robe and scuffed her bare feet against the mat to dry them, stuffing them crossly back into her slippers.

She flung the door open and stomped down the gallery, brochure clenched firmly in hand, hair dripping down her back.

"Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks…!"

She'd broken into a run by the time she reached the library. Grabbing a remote control wand, she lit up the giant TV and with a few deft movements she brought up the digital version of the booklet clenched in her hand. Loading the page with the portrait, she zoomed in to the place where Professor Jones's hand rested on the notebook and papers. Enhancing, clarifying, enlarging… Finally, she could see them more clearly. Pulling out the brochure, she flipped to the page with the earrings and compared them to the image on the screen.

The sigils matched.

"Oh you bastard…" she breathed, torn between elation at having solved the puzzle and frustration with herself. "You didn't need a translator. You already had it worked out…"

A smudged line across the top of the page on the enhanced, pixilated screen gave one final clue.

 _Kawka. Professor Gregorvic. Prague._

A quick google search later brought up a fascinating profile, of Professor Elon Gregorvic, Professor Emeritus of Linguistics, Charles University in Prague. Still alive. A sprightly 73 years old. Still researching. A world authority on hieroglyphics, Egyptology, ancient linguistics… who had spent a semester or two in his youth at the National University of San Marcos. Lima. Peru.

There was the connection.

 _Prague…_

The wheels in Lara's brain ticked onwards. Whirring pistons. She reached for the phone, punched in a number. Walking up and down, she consciously rearranged her features into a smile and rehearsed her first line until just the right note of sugary glee and ear piercing joy came out.

"Hiiiiiiii Clementina, it's me Lara …. Oh my god oh my god, it's so good to talk … did you just … and you've been… oh shut up, you have to tell me everything! But first, I got your letter and I'm so on BOARD for getting together... Do you think though that we could hook up in the Czech Republic? … Oh darling, the clubbing is to die for, and the vodka… absolutely… Mandarin Oriental? I'm booking it now, I'm booking it right now… Oh my God, I have to go shopping, I can't wait… talk very soon okIloveyougottago … "

Lara hung up the phone and tossed it to one side, shaking her head to clear out what she thought of as her Valley Girl persona.

"Hillary!" she bellowed, stomping back to her bedroom. "I'm going to Prague…"


	6. Chapter 6

"So…"

A large, positively glowing tequila sunrise landed on the table in front of Chloe as Sully took the seat opposite.

"So what?"

"So I reckon we've got about an hour before our partners-out-of-crime arrive and we need to go all polite and back in the box again, so I'll come straight to the point."

Chloe took a huge slurp of the cocktail and smiles to herself.

"Did you ever do anything else?"

"Nope and I'm not intending to start now. So. Are we going to have an issue with you working with Nate?"

Halfway through a second sip, Chloe spluttered and coughed.

"I told you I was coming straight to the point."

"Yeah, OK, and so you did. And I'll come straight to the point back. Absolutely not."

"Hmmmhmmm… so why do you keep looking at him like a big juicy steak that you just want to gobble up?"

"Oh god, that…" Chloe smiled wickedly over her glass. "I didn't know you'd been watching me so closely, Vintage."

Sully swirled his spiced rum in the heavy glass. "I watch everyone when we're on the job. The last thing I need is a cat fight on the way up the Andes."

"Not gonna happy Sully. Ancient history. Nate's not the issue. The issue is me."

"Uh-huh…?"

"I just… I'm really… urg…" she slugged another mouthful of the drink.

Sully tilted his head to one side. His eyes narrowed in a frown, then amusement.

"Oh, sunshine, you mean to say you've not…"

"Had a good fuck in weeks."

Sully was a tactful man when he chose to be. And there weren't many conversations where he'd had to be as light on his verbal feet as this one. He'd known Chloe for a long time, gotten to know her better since Nate retired, truth be told. And true, he had been dragged kicking and screaming into the twenty first century eventually, but damn…

"Have I shocked you, old man?"

"Hell no. Only shocked that such a fine miss as you can't find a willing dance partner."

"Pffft … it was just the one partner I wanted. She wasn't in the mood to dance."

"Aw, well, y'can't give up entirely just because of… wait, did you just say 'she'?"

Sully blinked endearingly, his open face completely blank. Chloe's mouth smiled, but her eyes were nervous. She shrugged, fiddled with the little useless straw.

"Well, I'll be damned… I didn't have you pegged as someone who would switch teams."

"My … 'team'," Chloe made bunny ears with her fingers, "is just a little bigger than most people have assumed over the years. Including me. I just … I dunno. It never occurred to me that I would want to be with a woman until I met a woman I wanted to be with."

"But she didn't feel the same."

"She's more of a … business associate. Or at least, that's how she wants to stay."

"Aw Sunshine … that's rough."

Sully's big old calloused hand covered her own in a gesture of solidarity and fatherly affection.

"Yeah, it is a bit. And normally, I'd just …. You know … one good night on the town and I'd find a hot partner for a good old tango…"

The hot useless tears of frustration were threatening to spill from Chloe's dark eyes.

"Oh ho…" Sully knocked back his glass in one smooth swallow. "If we're going to continue this conversation, we're going to need some more drinks…"

Chloe frantically wiped at her face as Sully threaded his way through the empty tables to the bar. She thanked Christ she wasn't wearing mascara. How fucking embarrassing.

There was a soft thunk as two glasses landed on the table followed by a squeak and pop as a cork was drawn out of an old bottle. The scent of rum wafted pleasantly up her nose.

"Now, when I was in the navy, and we were months at a time away at sea without so much as a bikini in sight, there was only one thing that worked at keeping that old devil called frustrated lust at bay. And it just so happens that they keep a bottle of it here for me when I'm passing through…"

"Sully is there ever a bar in the world where you're not passing through?"

"Hmmm, well, I think there's one or two in Mongolia where I don't have a tab yet," he sloshed the golden liquid into the glasses and replaced the cork, tapping it into place with a satisfied smile. "Now… get yourself round that."

Chloe took a long breath and sipped at the rum. It slipped down, like nectar, a balm to her senses and to her wounded pride. This was good stuff.

"Feeling better?"

"Starting to."

"Good… Now … I don't think it's wise to mix this kinda business with that kinda pleasure in the first place. But I don't need to tell you that chasing an old flame is a bad plan at the best of times."

"Oh, no, Sully … I meant what I said. Nate's just … a nice memory. That's all. I mean, damn the boy grew up cute, but happy families suits him better than all those tussles with me. I just … wish I could find the new model, is all."

Sully swirled his glass again and looked thoughtfully at her.

"Chloe, sunshine, I'm not gonna offer you any half-assed cliches. Hell, I'm a walking one, you don't need more than that. But at some point, the next model is gonna walk through that door. And well … this line of work is hard on relationships. Nate and Elena? They only made it because they got out."

"What are you saying, Sully?"

"I guess I'm saying … if you're looking for something more … you might be looking in the wrong places. Maybe the time's come for you to hang up your boots too."

Sully's mode of thinking brushed uncomfortably close to her own, which weren't entirely focused on romance. The need for creature comforts, the ansty feeling in the back of her mind, the nerves about this trip… if anyone would understand, he was sat here right now.

"Well … maybe this is my last hurrah, Sully. Maybe it's time for me to give the cat a name."

"No longer be 'travelling' huh?"

"You old sap, I knew you were a sucker for the old movies deep down."

"Only for Audrey Hepburn, sunshine. What a dame she was."

"She was that, she really was." Chloe raised her glass in appreciation.

Sully chuckled.

"I think I could get used to travelling with a woman who sees the world through my view…"

He raised his glass, and Chloe smiled, chinking her glass against his.

"I don't believe this, you started on the rum without us?"

Nate and Elena walked across the bar behind Sully, toting their own packs. _Right,_ thought Chloe. _Back in your box, Holly Golightly. We've still got a job to do."_

"Plenty more where that came from Nate," Sully waved at the bar for two more glasses. "And I think it's only right that we should start right. With the good shit and a great toast."

"So what do we toast to?" Elena took a seat.

Sully pulled the cork and started pouring the rum into glasses. "Well …," he said gruffly, "Let's start with absent friends…" he handed one to Nate. "Lost loves," he topped up Chloe's glass with a small private smile, "Old Gods…" he scooted a glass over towards Elena… "and the season of mists…" he poured a generous slug into his own glass, setting down the bottle. He raised his glass. "And may each and every one of us, always give the devil his due."

"To giving the devil his due…" echoed Chloe.

"The devil his due…" Nate and Elena clinked their glasses into a group.

"That was beautiful Sully…" Nate was impressed. "You make that up on the spot?"

"Ahh Nate… you need to read anything written more recently than the sixteenth century," Sully flung an arm around his old pal. "Now drink up, come to dinner, and over a big steak let me tell you about a writer called Gaiman…"

 **Two days later, in Prague**

After a rush of unpacking, the various uniformed assistants departed, well tipped, and the door to the suite finally closed with a soft and final thunk. Lara exhaled, finally able to drop the personal of bored socialite, dropping her prada bag onto the little corner sofa. The air conditioning was a blessing, the air outside was stifling at street level. But this suite was equipped with a private roof terrace. Lara crossed to the little doors and opened them, discovering a well appointed rattan furnished sitting area. A low glass table was set with china, silver and elegant candelabra. Citronella candles burned, driving away any lingering insects, leaving a pleasant scent behind them. A church clock chimed in the distance. Twelve noon. Just in time for her first rendezvous of the afternoon.

She ventured back indoors, investigated further. The suite fridge held a selection of delicacies, brie, pastrami, various delicatessen nibbles, and a basket of soft bread rolls and elegant bread sticks awaited under a soft linen cover on a rolling cart. Beside them, a bucket of ice held a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and three highly polished glasses stood waiting. Perfect… Lara decanted the nibbles into the cart, covered them with a second folded cloth and rolled them outside.

An urgent rapid knock at the door recaptured Lara's attention. She scurried over toward the door and took a moment to compose herself, rearranging her features into a vapid sheen of delight.

She opened the door to be greeted by two shrieks of incoherent delight. Two visions in pink were waiting outside the door, matching blond curls bouncing with enthusiasm.

"Lara!"

"Clementina! Arrabella! Darlings…"

"Oh my dear, was the journey ghastly? Did you get first class? Poor Bella had to travel business on the last journey, simply awful, the champagne was flat and there were no complimentary snacks…"

Lara swallowed an inner giggle to herself, thinking about the last flight she'd taken out of Kazakhstan at short notice, in the back of a mercenary cargo plane. Filthy, blood stained, exhausted and with no change of clothes for three days, if Clementina thought business class was bad she was best off out of this business.

"Come through, my dears, champagne on the balcony with lunch…"

A pleasant hour passed. Lara felt a little guilty about using her friends as cover, but she had learned that it was essential that she should not travel anywhere on business without another plausible reason for being in town. Socialite rendezvous had thrown off more scent than many other elaborate hoaxes in the past. Arabella in particular had been useful for this in the past. They always seemed to cross paths in the most exotic spots.

For half an hour the girls feasted, while seeming to eat nothing, drank, chattered and swapped all of the incidental gossip of their circle.

"So Lara…" Arabella lit a menthol cigarette… "Prague, darling?"

"Opera… I've been on the waiting list for tickets for longer than had been respectable and finally came up trumps. La Traviata, tomorrow night, dress circle…"

Lara pulled out the ticket and displayed it, silently blessing Cecil and his wonderful connections.

Clementina's gloved fingers covered her mouth in a small shocked gesture.

"Ticket for one?"

A deft flick of her fingers separated the small pile into three like a little fan.

"What do you take me for? Tickets for three darling!"

Little shrieks of joy spilled from their lips.

"Oh… but we have to go shopping! I didn't pack anything for opera!"

Perfect, thought Lara. That leaves me with a free afternoon.

"Oh well I mustn't keep you! You've got… three hours for shopping, that leaves an hour for getting ready, and I will pick you up sharp at 6 o'clock tonight! Light supper, show starts at 7.30, and then we can have a late night snack afterwards…"

In a flurry of exclamations and mutters, they were gently shepherded out of the door.

Lara pulled herself together and swiftly changed for her next meeting with Professor Gregorvic. Soft, linen trousers and a crisp white shirt, boots, a tan jacket and a satchel of papers. She looked the epitome of a graduate student as she stepped out of the exclusive hotel.

"Taxi!"

Some languages didn't need translating she thought to herself as a cab drew up instantly…


	7. Chapter 7

The Charles University of Prague was quite beautiful. One of the oldest institutions in continental Europe, a seat of theological and scientific learning for more than seven hundred years. The cobbled courtyard and neatly manicured gardens were beautiful, reminiscent of Oxford's gardens. It was a gorgeous place for an intellectual stroll, and the library … The library was simply divine.

How was it, that she felt far more at home in these ancient seats of learning, in these dusty crowded little offices and teaching rooms, with men who were old enough to be her father, her grandfather often enough, than with the privileged and beautiful women who were of her age and what Hillary would call her 'station'?

The only place she felt more alive, more herself, was in the tunnels and caverns which kept their secrets, which hid the artefacts described and lovingly recorded in these hallowed halls. The whole day melted away in the cool, wood panelled library of the linguistics faculty, as Lara poured over the papers and letters that Gregovic had exchanged with Dr Jones. The silence was soothing to her soul, serenity reigned, broken only by the occasional dusty cough, hastily suppressed, or a small gasp of surprise at a new discovery.

Lara adored libraries. Her father's had been her favourite place to spent time as a child. He always used to say 'Libraries are the hiding place of secrets we aren't smart enough to uncover and problems we aren't educated enough to solve yet.' Now here she was, proving him right again.

A soft step behind her recalled her to herself. It was the Professor.

"How are you getting along, my dear?"

"Oh, fascinatingly," she smiled. "Your notes are so complete, this whole section has been a joy to read. Did you work directly with Dr Jones?"

"Oh yes, we corresponded for much of my early career. He was a great benefactor, so well read in South American literature and culture…"

"Was that a passion he developed towards the end of his life?"

"Oh no, quite the opposite. He first became interested in the field in the early 1930s, I think his first trip was in 1935…"

Professor Gregorvic was everything Lara had imagined. Courtly, polished, a consummate academic. Her father would have approved.

"I'm really most interested in the studies you helped him with toward the end of his life… especially around the language of Kawka…"

"Goodness my dear, you are well read to have come across that little dialect."

Lara smiled disarmingly. It wouldn't do to say too much. Let him think her an expert, or under informed, whichever suited the purpose better.

"Well, I'm only just beginning. It's a … pet hobby, you might say. Am I right in thinking that it's closely related to Kawki?"

"Very close, but there are some fundamental differences. Especially regarding direction, and location."

"I'd be really interested to see any papers you have on the subject…"

"Certainly my dear. I vondered if you vould consider joining me for luncheon tomorrow? I haf some further documents zat might be of interest in my apartment, I could retrieve zem and bring zem tomorrow?"

"I should be delighted Professor!"

"Excellent, I shall make reservations at Jorgi's, and you shall try some of my favourite strudel!"

"It's a date Professor." they exchanged an address, fixed a time and laughed when the church bell tolled five o'clock in the difference."

"And now, my leetle cinderella, it iz time to sent you off to ze ball!"

"Goodness, yes, I must run!"

"Enjoy ze Opera my dear…"

On her taxi ride back to the hotel, Lara sighed to herself and wished that more men with minds like Professor Gregorvic existed in her generation. There were so few, and they were drifting out of fashion with every passing year. How long had it been since she had met anyone of her own generation who valued her body and mind equally? Her memory, usually excellent, cheated her and refused to cough up more than half a dozen names, many of whom were now sickeningly happily married.

Gregorvic was cultured. Charming, Exquisitely educated. Well travelled. Even open minded, for anyone, let alone his generation. Her fears about being judged based on her gender had proved groundless within half an hour of his company. But while he showed great enthusiasm for her exploits and adventures, his walking cane and arthritic fingers, not to mention the fact that he was in his seventies, precluded him from joining her for the next one. And the age gap was significant. Plus, Lara was attracted to his mind, not his body. And if she was unwilling to settle for a man with a killer physique and no capacity for mental stimulation, she was astute enough to admit that a skew in the other direction held no long term appeal either.

Back in her hotel room, she whizzed through her preparations for the evening out with the girls with practised ease. Applying a coat of mascara, she mused to herself about when she had last felt even a frission of attraction for a man.

There was that marvellous man she'd met at the auction. Nathan Drake. Now he was a thrilling combination of physical prime and mental gymnastic ability. Though there was the small issue of the well worn wedding band on his hand…

As she fixed her earrings, there was a knock at the door. Lara frowned. Surely the girls couldn't be early…

"Clementina, I thought we were meeting at…"

She swung the door open.

It wasn't Clementina.

"Hello Lara…"

It was Cecil.

Darling, good hearted, beige, bland, Wimbledon addict Cecil…

"Goodness!"

He was wearing a suit … a tuxedo … and something was different about his face…

"Can I come in?"

"Of course…"

He was carrying roses. Red ones.

 _Oh dear…_

He presented them with a predictable flourish and a soppy smile.

"Oh Cecil…"

"Only the best for you Lara."

Try as she might, she couldn't quite keep the look of pity out of her face as her eyes met his own baby blue gaze… Glasses! That's what was missing. He must be wearing new contacts, if the extra blue eyes and the blinking were anything to judge by.

"What are you doing here…?"

"Well … I had a little ally. Clementina called, told me that you were coming out to see her here. And well … you didn't answer my letter about doing the season, and Robbie said you'd been in touch about the Opera so I thought, you know, just for once … I might try to be spontaneous. Like you."

Oh God, he was like something out of a middle class farce, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop him. Poor, milk faced, weak chinned, blond little Cecil… The tuxedo was new, but everything else about him was just so old and so very tired.

"I, uh … I got you something." Cecil was rummaging in his jacket pocket. "Just … you know … I heard about your trip to New York, and I thought this might be something that you'd be interested in…"

Lara took the small package, wrapped in tissue paper.

"Go ahead, open it…" Cecil nodded foolishly.

Lara already knew what was in it. She had three copies. One signed. She had assisted the co-author in proofing and checking the first edition two years ago.

The Authorised Biography of Professor Henry Walton Jones Jr., Forward by Henry Williams.

"Oh Cecil, you shouldn't have…"

"I know, I know. You have enough books already. But I saw this, and I know of your passion for all things history, and I just thought … you know … I know you're interested in this sort of thing."

He was so foolishly proud of knowing her well and had no idea that he was barely scratching the surface.

"Thank you, Cecil, that's so kind."

"Well … I know lately we've been spending all sorts of time together, and you seem to have enjoyed all your visits, even though you've not stayed very long and … no, no please … can I just finish?"

A cold feeling spread up from Lara's toes.

 _Oh Cecil no, not now, not here in Prague, not when I'm on the verge of starting the greatest thing I will ever do…_

"And … well … I'm not getting any younger Lara. And you know Mother's always saying that, I should find the right girl, and sort my life out and pull it together, and well, I think I've found her. You. I mean. I think I've found her, and she's you, and so…"

Before she could even move, he was down on one knee, tugging the box out of his pocket, the Boodles embossed lid just visible before he opened the box to reveal the diamond.

Solitaire. Platinum. Brilliant Cut. So classic. So boring. So … just so … 'Cecil'.

"Lara, will you marry me?"

Her fingertips covered her mouth.

"I mean … I know you. I know you so well,"

 _You do?_

"And I can keep you in the style to which you're accustomed … there's room for your library at my house,"

 _Your house?_

"and… and… I won't even mind if you want to keep going on your little holidays…"

 _Mind?_

"I mean, I can stay home with the children until they go to prep school…"

 _Children?! Alright that's it…_

"Oh Cecil … darling Cecil…"

He reached for her hand, thinking she was going to say Yes.

"No."

She pulled her hand away. He looked confused.

"No…?"

"I'm so sorry dear, but … No. The answer is No. But thank you so very much for asking."

"But why… but… how could…"

Watching the emotions ricochet across Cecil's face was painful. Confusion. Shock. Disappointment. Anger. Annoyance. But nowhere in the mix was there even the slightest hint of love. Or heartbreak. That, more than anything else, convinced Lara that it had been the right call, and there could never have been any other answer. No matter how long she waited.

Cecil was still spluttering as Lara gently, oh so gently with soft words, but very firmly and without leaving a slight opening for second thoughts, got him to his feet, and propelled him back where he came from, out of the door, flowers and all, and closed it firmly behind him.

She watched for a few seconds through the seeing eye in the door, as Cecil stood, like a goldfish gasping for air, before tucking the box back in his pocket, and walking away dejectedly down the hallway.

Lara closed her eyes for a brief second and leaned her forehead against the reassuringly solid door.

Dear lord … she'd been contemplating the mismatch between body and mind in her objects of interest, but she'd never considered for a moment that there would be one without either to recommend him.

Poor Cecil.

She and Clementina would be having words later on tonight….


	8. Chapter 8

**Cusco Airport, Peru**

The sun was rising above the mountains in spectacular fashion as the four travellers emerged from the Airport, having wrangled their way through immigration and reclaimed their packs from baggage. Luckily nothing had be lost or damaged in transit.

The altitude and clear air, on top of the jet lag, was as heady and clear as crisp champagne. Chloe felt almost drunk on the cool breeze and sunshine.

"Well … we're here Nate. So where's this contact of yours?"

"And where are we all crashing tonight?" Elena chimed in, stretching like a cat, her eyes tired and sunken behind her dark glasses.

"I'm sure he'll be here right about…"

"Nate!"

"Now…" Nate smiled, seeing the man come walking towards them from the parking area.

A stocky, obviously former military man, dressed in army surplus style fatigues, a black hat covering his balding head, while designer stubble decorated his chin and cheeks. Strong jawed, all muscle with big arms and twinkling eyes, it was difficult not to take an instant liking to him.

"Conrad, meet my wife, Elena, and our friends Chloe Fraser and Victor Sullivan. Guys … Conrad Roth."

"Pleasure to meet you all" Conrad spoke with a soft British accent, cultured, but used to being listened to and obeyed. "Truck's out front, I've arranged a place for you all to crash out and rest up for a little while."

This was welcome news and a relief all round.

Sully smiled to himself. He'd heard the name Conrad Roth, and it had never been spoken in anger. They were in good and competent hands.

"So where are we headed?"

"Villa just on the outskirts of the city. Belongs to a friend of mine, one of my old Sargeants. He retired out of here once he got out of the regiment. Then the daft old sod got himself married, and now spends his time shuttling his wife around to visit her extended family, bloody cousins all over the place who keep getting married, then having kids, who get married, and have kids… Life's one long round of christenings and weddings for him these days. He lets me crash here when I'm in Peru…"

A pleasant rumble of laughter spread through the group. The image was a familiar one.

"So how did it go?"

"With Sacha? Like a dream. I got you a guide. She knows the whole region."

"Excellent news."

"She knows the Padre too…"

"Padre?" Elena chimed in. Nat smiled and patted her knee with that 'I'll explain later when everyone's listening' gesture.

"That's great Conrad, you've done wonders."

"Don't mention it Nate. I owe you for that Thing with the Guy in the Place, and I won't forget it… Now, here we are…"

The jeep swung in through a gateway to a small courtyard of cobbled stones and bumped its way up toward a large wooden front door set into a white stone building.

Conrad switched off the engine and wrestled the door open.

"Come on in…"

The travellers came into the house and instantly blessed the thick stone walls and cool white washed decor that loaned such an air of cool to the place.

"Couple of rooms down there," Conrad thumbed down a corridor, "and there's a double here…" He pushed open a door, revealing a sparse but tranquil room, with a stone floor, white covered bed and linen curtains which shifted in a soft welcome breeze from the window. With its wooden furniture and white walls, the room exuded tranquillity.

"This one's got its own bathroom, there's another to share down there if you want to cool off and sleep for a bit. Fridge full of food in the kitchen for later."

Elena dropped her bag at the end of the bed and, without ceremony, face planted across the bed with a long groan.

Nate shook Conrad's hand.

"Just … don't mind us if we all pass out for a bit?"

"Always the same when I get to this place mate. The Altitude's a killer, if the jetlag isn't. Get some rest. I'll fill you in properly later."

"Couple of hours all round should see us right."

"Aye. Don't sleep too long or you'll be fucked tonight. I'll make us something for dinner later."

"You can cook these days?"

"Always could, mate. Better than that roast lizard in the desert anyway…"

Chloe inched down the corridor, quietly, slowly, keeping an eye on Sully over her shoulder, just as he rubbed his face and said "Well, I guess I'll just go take a …"

As he turned, she broke into a run, with a squeal of laughter.

"Hey, don't you even think about hogging that…"

He gave chase, just as Chloe and her pack reached the bathroom and slammed the door.

"Don't worry Vintage," she called through the door as he hammered heedlessly. "I won't take all the hot water…"

Nate and Elena couldn't help it, they dissolved into laughter, turning into their own room and closing the door behind them.

* * *

"Why does she call him that?"

"Hmmm?"

"Vintage…"

Nate laughed as he turned over to cuddle his wife after their snooze.

"Oh that… Vintage. Because he gets better with age. Like a fine wine. A good vintage."

Elena laughed and snuggled back into Nate's arms. The couple of hours sleep on a proper bed had done wonders, and the cure would be finished with a shower and a good meal.

"I guess it's better than some names."

"It just makes me wonder what names we'll get saddled with at some point."

"Hmmm…" Elena began to extricate herself.

Nate mumbled a groan of protest as she moved away.

"Honey, I need a shower…"

"Excellent, let me help…"

"Nate…"

"I'm serious…" Nate stood up and pulled Elena into his arms, nibbling at her neck and shoulder around the strap of her tank top. "This might be the last time we get any privacy for weeks…"

Despite herself, Elena was melting a little as his teeth nipped at her skin and his arms snaked further around her waist.

"Well…"

"Well what," he whispered, fingers slipping beneath her top and working it up over her body. "Look, I'm being a good boy, I'm helping you get undressed..."

Elena reached behind her, pushed the bathroom door open, and saw with immense pleasure that the shower room was of the wet room sort, not an over-bath type.

"Come on then," she said wickedly, pulling his hand into the room.

…

Sometime later, they finally emerged, clean and wrapped in towels, satisfied but tired, their previous clothes strewn around the bathroom floor, half of them now sodden with shower water.

"Well," Elena mused, wringing out her hair, "they probably needed washing out after two days consistent wear any way…"

"Hmmmm…" Nate towelled off his hair and looked at her with that boyish rumpled charm she'd fallen for all those years ago. "You however, " he said softly, "are still extremely dirty…"

"And you love me for it."

"Always."

"But it's time to behave now."

"I know. Game face on."

"I hope that was enough to keep you going for the next few weeks…"

"Oh ho! Plenty to dream about."

There was a thump on the door.

"You guys awake enough for dinner yet?" Conrad bellowed…

"Be right out!"

Elena picked up a clean shirt and threw it at Nate. "Come on you… or Sully will be eating our share of dinner…"

…

By the time they walked into the open plan kitchen-living room, Chloe and Sully were already into their first cold beers, freshened up and looking better for some sleep, showers and clean clothes.

"...last bit was cold…"

"No it wasn't…"

"How would you know…"

"... stop whinging Vintage."

"How're we all feeling?" Nate broke into the conversation good naturedly.

"Ready for the next bit of the plan," Chloe said eagerly. "What's next?"

Conrad bustled in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up, dicing onions and bell peppers, peeling and chopping potatoes, while a delicious sauce rich with hot spices simmered in large open pot. He occasionally scooped up his own beer for a swig from the bottle.

"Cold ones in the fridge over there mate, help yourselves…"

Elena went to get them.

"Right…" Nate pulled out his papers, and gathered up the waiting stack in a beige folder on the side table. "Are these for me, Con?"

"Yep … help yourself … I'll just get this simmering and I'll come chip in."

Nate spread the map across the low coffee table and leafed through the papers.

"Come on guys…"

The others sat around and prepared to pitch into the next planning stage.

"So where are we headed?"

"We are headed… right … there…" Nate made a mark with a red pen on the map, a town in the middle of the Andes mountains. "Tantarā."

"What's in Tantarā?"

"A man who can help. A Padre. He's old now, heading towards his 80s, but when he was younger, he was an academic, a young research assistant who studied in Lima. He joined the church later in his life, he's been at Tantarā for the last twenty years."

"Surely he's not still an active Priest, after all this time…"

"No, not exactly, more of a Priest Emeritus. There's a younger man who does the real work, but this guy knows the region better than anyone, and speaks all the languages and dialects of the people."

"All the languages."

"Including Kawki?"

Sully's eyes lit up.

"Yep. And … rumour has it … a little Kawka."

"Wherever did you find him?"

"He was a penpal of Dr Jones. They met in Peru, then corresponded later in life. Dr Jones was going to come and stay with him, towards the end of his life, but the trip fell through."

"Wow…"

"Yeah. So … anyway, the Padre, Father Andreas… in his last letter to Doctor Jones, which was in the journal, he mentioned that Tantarā was the starting point for their 'great journey'. The first step. And look…"

Nate unfolded a photocopy of the earrings, annotated in his precise handwriting, with different highlights and colours next to different sigils.

"You see this one here? The translation says something like 'the spiral begins at the centre, a speck hidden among rocks, a treasure concealed on all sides.'"

"But how does that help?"

"If helps if you know what Tantarā is known as. The settlers called it La Perla Escondida Entre Los Andes."

Sully whistled softly.

"The pearl at the centre of the Andes."

Don't you see? The town is the treasure. The hiding spot. It's hidden on all sides by mountains. Just like a pearl is sealed inside an oyster, grown from a tiny speck.

Chloe marvelled to herself at how Nate had managed to pull all of this together.

"So, we need to get to Tantarā first."

"Yep, and once we get there, we're going to need a guide."

"Dinner's up…" yelled Conrad.

Nate stuffed everything back into the folder as everyone drifted over towards the table.

"This smells… wonderful Conrad…"

Bowls of the wonderful food were handed around, as Sully poured glasses of a rich red wine from a waiting bottle and passed them out.

"Tuck in, don't wait…"

"So Conrad, you found us a guide."

"Are, so I did…" Conrad munched a piece of lamb and chased it down with a swallow of wine. "Name's Mayra, she grew up not far from Tantarā. She knows the whole region. She was working as a tour guide for a while at Machu Picchu, but it's all a bit too, yknow…"

"Tacky?"

"Precisely," Conrad raised his glass in acknowledgement to Elena's suggested description. "Tacky. Any westerner with rich parents and daddy issues can take up that trail now. The romance has all gone."

The group sadly nodded heads. Their trade was being invaded by tourists ever more each year. Even Nate and Elena, who made significant money out of tourists wanting to see lost wonders, couldn't help but be a little sad that their world was being so thoroughly meme'd and instagrammed.

"You can barely walk up a mountain without some prick shoving a camera phone in your face these days," grumbled Conrad.

"But she won't mind helping us?"

"Mind…? You're some of the last great names in the business, Drake. She were delighted. Couldn't wait. She'll be here in the morning, to set off."

"Excellent," said Sully, reaching for the bottle. "Well, here's to a good night's sleep, and an adventure with no Instagram!"

Chloe laughed to herself, doubting that Sully even knew that Instagram was. But the toast rang loud and clear into the darkening evening, as the candles guttered and the moths began to gather.


End file.
